


What You Don't Know Can Hurt You

by Vinnocent



Series: Teen Titans: Morph! [19]
Category: Animorphs - Katherine A. Applegate, Blue Beetle (Comics), DCU, Static Shock, Teen Titans (Animated Series), Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Brainwashing, Choking, F/M, Gun Violence, M/M, Medical Experimentation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-24
Updated: 2014-05-24
Packaged: 2018-01-26 09:08:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 8,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1682825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vinnocent/pseuds/Vinnocent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This fic catches up with what's happening with everyone else in Central City, Dakota, El Paso, Gotham City, Jump City, Metropolis, Star City, Tritonis, and the future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Central City, Missouri

There was something up in Central City. People had been going missing. Most of them not people that would be missed much. Repeat runaways. Anti-social types. Even criminals.

But Iris West-Allen noticed. Her husband had his own heroics, beating injustice into submission, but she had hers as well.

She made sure people _knew_.

So Iris had interviewed everyone connected to the missing persons. And only one group had been evasive. The Sharing.

Less than half of the missing persons had known connections to The Sharing, but many others fit the profile. Losers. Delinquents. The depressed. And not one person within the “Inner Circle” had a single complaint. Yet, if she talked to those in the outer circle, description ranged from “perfect” to “kind of creepy.”

The whole thing reeked of conspiracy, which was exactly why she’d brought her phone. Warning Barry ahead of time would most likely mean him standing in her way, and she didn’t have time for that.

Quietly and at a distance, Iris followed the leader of The Sharing, a woman named Makena Mason, as Mason drove away from her home at two in the morning. Mason pulled into the parking lot of a police station. Iris pulled into the Big Belly Burger across the way. Hurrying across the street, she only just managed to catch of a glimpse of Mason ducking into a fire exit.

Well, that was a huge security issue.

Warily, Iris approached the fire exit. If she’d missed a code or signal or if anyone was watching, an alarm might go off and signal her presence. She pulled out her phone, her thumb hovering over the icon of the signal app developed by S.T.A.R. Labs. Every friend or family member who knew the secret identity of their hero had one. One tap, and Barry and the rest of JLA would immediately know where she was and that she was in trouble.

Carefully, she eased open the door. No alarms that she could hear. She peaked inside just in time to see Mason duck into another door. “Gotcha,” she hissed.

Iris crept up the hall, keeping an eye out for police staff she didn’t particularly want to explain herself to yet. She came upon the door Mason had used, which was clearly labeled “Janitor.” Iris laughed. “Yeah, right,” she said, pulling open the door, and revealing a janitor’s closet.

“ _What_?” She closed the door, then opened it again. Still a janitor’s closet. She had been certain that she’d seen Makena Mason enter!

Hearing someone approach, Iris quickly ducked inside. In the darkness of the janitor’s closet, she was able to see light creeping in around the door frame. She was also able to see light creeping in around the edges of the back wall. _Bingo_.

Iris pushed against the wall, trying to figure out how to move it. Standing awkwardly over a mop bucket, Iris grabbed a coat hook for support, only to find that it twisted easily in her hand and, with it, so did the back wall. A secret passage! She _loved_ secret passages!

Iris stepped out onto the stoney steps and looked around. Mason seemed to be long gone, but she couldn’t tell where the stairs led. They were long and bent and carved in the earth. No, not carved. She crouched down to look more closely at the construction of the steps while the door creaked closed behind her. There was an abundance of deep carving marks, but they were too haphazard and varied to be tool marks. The stairway had almost definitely been _chewed_ into existence.

Thumb hovering over the app icon, Iris slowly, carefully descended the stairs. As she did, an unfamiliar, earthy stench rose up to meet her. There was also a sound that she couldn’t quite parse. It was like the roar of an ocean but… unnerving.

Ahead, there was a lot more light where the hall the stairs were recessed into suddenly opened up. Iris, however, had already figured out what the sound was. She pressed the app icon. On the screen popped up an option to fill in details and even pick a specific hero. She chose to alert Barry in addition to the JLA and added “Take fire exit in back of police station to janitor’s closet just inside. Twist coat hook.”

Then, she waited.

About thirty seconds later, Barry appeared. “Iris, what the hell?!” he demanded.

She smirked up at him. “You’re late,” she said.

But he wasn’t listening. He’d already heard the sound. He was staring at the lit opening ahead. “Is that screaming?” he asked.

She frowned. “I was kind of hoping you’d say that it wasn’t,” she admitted.

“What is that smell?” he demanded, covering his mouth and nose with his hand.

Iris had to admit, “I don’t know yet.”

Flash scowled. “Alright, keep hold of me and don’t make a noise,” he instructed before crouching in front of her. She pulled up onto his back so that he could piggyback her. One blur of movement later, and they were crouching behind some kind of storage shed, peeking out at… At something Iris didn’t have a name for.

It was massive. Maybe as big as LuthorDome. The pool of brown sludge in the middle looked almost as big as a standard football field. Around it were a variety of sheds and small buildings, a multitude of other staircases, large equipment she couldn’t guess the purpose of, and, worst of all, cages. Rows and rows of cages full of screaming, crying, despairing people. Humans and… probably aliens but possibly mythical or extra-dimensional creatures. Whatever they were, they looked dangerous. Flash swore under his breath as he took it all in.

Iris reached forward with her phone to take a picture, but Flash grabbed her hand. “Iris!” he hissed.

“Evidence!” she hissed back.

Flash sighed. “Okay. One. Make it a good one, and don’t let them see us. Then I’m getting you back home before finding the rest of the-- Crap, Supergirl already responded to the alert."

Iris peered over his shoulder at the Kryptonian who had flown in and was now looking over the area. “Uh, sweetie?” Iris said. “Tell me something. If you were a bad guy and one of the Super Family suddenly showed up at your headquarters… Wouldn’t you… notice?”

Flash scowled. “Yeah, you’re right,” he said. “How come no one’s flip--"

“ _Attention_!” Supergirl all but screamed. “Somewhere in this complex is Barry Allen and Iris West-Allen.”

Flash’s eyes flew wide open. “Did she just--?”

“The complex is to be placed on lockdown unt--"

Flash didn’t wait to hear the rest of the plan. He grabbed up Iris in his arms and beat it back up the stairs. Apparently, Supergirl had noticed his blur, because she was already screaming to lock the doors. Actually, Iris couldn't really parse the blurring visuals well, but she was fairly certain that Supergirl was following them. “Barry, duck at the door,” she whispered into his ear.

“What?”

“Duck when you reach the door!” she insisted. A split second later, Flash stopped right in front of the closet wall and ducked to the floor. With slightly slower reflexes, Supergirl smashed right through it. “GO!” Iris shouted, and Flash was immediately up again, running with all his might.

That didn’t stop Supergirl. She blurred after them, shouting for them to stop. “Iris, message Jay and Wally,” Flash instructed. “Tell them to get out of Keystone City. Take anyone with them that might be endangered by their identities being known. Don’t take anything that can be tracked by the League. And don’t stop running until they find a middle of nowhere that not anyone, not even us, knows about. Somewhere they’ve never been before. As soon as you do it, throw the phone.”

Iris shifted in his arms to do as he instructed. “Barry,” she whispered. “Can she catch us?”

He glanced over his shoulder worriedly, but, for her, he forced a broad smile. “Nah,” he said.


	2. Dakota, Michigan

“V! V, listen!”

“Kinda busy, Rich!” Dakota’s favorite kid hero snapped at the “Shock Box” communicator in his hand as he swerved to Puff’s acidic huffs. Being Static certainly wasn’t an easy job, but the other options never sat well with Virgil Hawkins. He wasn’t the type to stand by when he could _do_ instead.

“Trust me, you’ll want to take time for this,” Richie Foley’s voice returned. “See the old man down by Watches And Things? The one staring at you?”

Virgil turned to look as much as he could without losing track of Puff. “Richie, that better not be who I think it is.”

“Oh, it is.”

“Distract her!” he shouted as he flew down to none other than Robert Hawkins, his own father, standing and watching the battle like some kind of fool. Behind him, Richie tossed Zap Caps at Puff from his hiding place behind a ficus. “Sir!” Static shouted, pretending not to recognize his father and praying that his father didn’t recognize him. Struggling to deepen his voice, he said, “Sir! You need to get out of this mall! It’s not safe!”

Mr. Hawkins seemed to startle slightly, then look embarrassed. “Yes,” he said. “Yes, I know. It’s just…”

“Just _what_?” Static demanded, irritated. Of all the things for his father to argue with him about--

“There’s something I need to tell you,” Mr. Hawkins confessed. “Something the police won’t believe.”

Static froze. What?

“STATIC!” Richie screamed over the Shock Box. “SHE FOUND ME! RUNNING!”

He turned to see Richie running away, barely hiding his face under a hood while Puff blew after him, dissolving railings and a good portion of the upper floor right behind Richie. He turned back to his dad, uncertain. He needed for Static to have as few of Virgil’s connections as possible. But if something bad was happening in his father’s life…

“I gotta do this,” Static said, motioning toward the chaos of Puff’s destruction. “Meet me in the park, by the fountain, at midnight. You can tell me there.”

He took off after Puff and Richie, hoping he hadn’t just agreed to something disastrous.

－ －

That night, Virgil lay in bed pretending to sleep until he heard his father’s car creep out of the drive. He counted to ten, then opened the window, flying away into the night as Static.

He found his father exactly where he’d told him to wait. He checked around first, then floated down to meet him, stepping off the Static Saucer, levitating it into his hand, folding it, and tucking it away all in a few small, smooth movements. “You had something to tell me?” he said as casually as possible.

“Yes, young man,” Mr. Hawkins said, nodding firmly, but Virgil could see he was nervous. Wasn’t a lot that made his dad nervous, and that made _him_ nervous. “My name is Robert Hawkins. I’m a social worker, and I’m head counselor at Freeman Community Center.”

Static cocked his head curiously. “Alright?” he said, not sure why his father felt the need to give a supposed stranger that many details.

“And that’s why I needed to talk to you,” said Mr. Hawkins. “I’ve been thinking, wondering, who could I turn to? How could I find out what’s happened to these kids? Then I saw you at the mall and…” He shrugged helplessly and sighed, clearly distraught. “I don’t know what else to do.”

“Whoa, hey,” Static said, stepping forward. “I think maybe telling me was the right thing. But I need more details. I can’t help if I don’t know what happened. You said something about the kids?”

Mr. Hawkins nodded. “Yes. Well, you see… There’s this new organization. Relatively new. They have a history, but they haven’t been big until lately. They have good success rates with kids, so when they offered to add their club to the community center, we thought it was a boon. And it was. Every kid that joined the Sharing has made a complete turn around.”

Static blinked, confused. “So what’s the problem?”

“ _That_ they made this turnaround,” Mr. Hawkins said darkly. “Don’t get me wrong; we have our share of success stories. But for every step forward we make, there’s others dragging them ten steps back, and some aren’t willing to budge at all. Turn around is a long, arduous process. But these kids, and adults as well, they join the Sharing, go to meetings, are slowly evaluated -- for what, I don’t know -- and then are eventually invited into what the group calls ‘The Inner Circle.’ And once they join that, they make a total turn around. One hundred eighty degrees. Overnight.”

Static startled, his eyes widening, his body tensing, and electricity crackling between his fingers. “Overnight?” he repeated.

Mr. Hawkins nodded solemnly.

“I promise, I’ll look into it, sir,” Static said, and he meant it. It sounded like whatever was going on was probably insidious. It was his job to stop things like that.

Mr. Hawkins nodded again. “I’ll let you know if any actual evidence--"

“No!” Static cried, and Mr. Hawkins looked at him strangely. “I mean… Please, don’t endanger yourself trying to get involved. You don’t have my ability to defend yourself. Please leave this to heroes and police.”

Mr. Hawkins sighed and shook his head. “You don’t understand,” he said. “I am involved. This is personal for me.”

“Yeah, I know that community center means a lot to you, but--"

“No, that’s-- I mean, it _is_ but--" And then, against all odds, Mr. Hawkins started to tear up, right in front of him. “Static, I allowed my _daughter_ to join that Inner Circle, before I knew. I am sorry, but there’s no way I’m standing back on this while one of my children is in the middle of it.”

Sharon? Virgil reeled backward. _Sharon_?! “I…” he said. But he didn’t know what to say. “I’ll take care of it,” he fumbled pathetically before pulling out his Static Saucer and jetting away as quickly as possible.


	3. El Paso, Texas

“So…” Brenda del Vecchio said as she and Paco Testas sat down across Jaime Reyes at their usual bench at the edge of the campus.

He looked up at them. “So what?” he asked. He raised an eyebrow. “And since when do you two act in unison?”

“Oo, ‘unison,’” said Paco. “You been studying?”

“Little bit,” Jaime admitted. “So?”

“Been studying instead of Yeerk fighting?” Paco sneered.

Jaime narrowed his eyes. “And what if I have?” he snapped.

Paco’s mouth dropped open. “‘And wha...’? Are you _serious_?” he demanded angrily.

“Jaime, you said ‘body snatchers,’” Brenda reminded him.

“You said ‘screaming,’” Paco added.

“‘Parasite,’” Brenda added.

“‘Invasion,’” Paco added.

“What do you want me to do?” Jaime demanded. “There’s _people_ down there. People with families. I may have said all those things, but you _seemed_ equally against hurting them.”

Brenda scowled. “Yeah, I was also equally _for_ the statement that we need to prioritize the needs of people who haven’t been abducted yet.”

“Yeah, and what they need is for me to protect them from people like La--” Jaime cut himself off before he let his anger get too ahead of him. Paco snapped alert, and he immediately started motioning wildly for Jaime to shut up. “That woman,” he mumbled. Brenda gave him a suspicious look, but Jaime just grumbled defensively and got up from the table. “Look, you wanna be the superhero? Go ahead. But _I_ decide what I’m going to do with the magic bug armor, and I’m _not_ blowing up any more civilian buildings.” He left.

Brenda and Paco watched him go. “Well, that could have gone better,” Paco admitted.

“That could have gone less weird,” Brenda corrected. “That was totally weird.” She turned back to him. “There’s something he’s not telling us.”

“You think he got slugged?” Paco asked, suddenly concerned.

“There’s barely room for one in there,” Brenda said, pointing to her skull. “I highly doubt he’s squeezed in _three_. Besides, it would have just forced us down there instead of covering it up.” She looked back the way Jaime had gone. “No, he’s worried about something. Something _new_.”

Paco shook his head and picked up the burger off Jaime’s abandoned plate. “I need to think about something _other_ than the new mean bone that Jaime’s sprouted,” he said.

Brenda cocked an eyebrow at him. “Okay,” she said. “Then tell me why you two are so obsessed with La Dama.”

Paco nearly choked on his burger.


	4. Gotham City, New Jersey

“HARLEY!”

She winced bodily, then turned to glare at the closed door. “Yes?” she snapped. Then, “ _Pudding_.”

The door burst open, and Joker stormed in. “Harley! What ha--" It was then that he noticed his beloved assistant was sitting at her desk, out of costume, with her glasses on and a pile of paperwork before her. “What are you doing?” he snapped.

“I might be a villain, and I might have had my license revoked, but I’m _still_ a psychiatrist,” she explained patiently. “If I study the effects that gas has on you, then I can prevent you from suffering it again.”

Joker stared at her for a moment. Then, “Gas?”

She leaned back in her chair, foot against the edge of the desk to prop her backward as well as successfully distract him with the exposure of one gorgeous gam. “The hallucinogenic gas you’ve been suffering from for the past three days? I’ve told you a dozen times that was what was happening, but you never believed me.” She waved a hand absently. “Which was probably because you were hallucinating.”

Joker scowled as he attempted to digest the new information. “What gas?” he finally snapped.

“You don’t remember?” she asked innocently.

“No.”

She dropped her leg to snap her chair into upright position again and begin scrawling across her notes. “Fascinating,” she muttered. She looked up when an indicator light on a cube on the desk started to blink, but she just moved one of the paper stacks on top of it.

He stepped further into the room and looked over her shoulder only to see that she was scrawling out unrecognizable symbols and doodles. Whatever Arkham might say about them, he’d never once seen her do _that_ before. He filed it away to think about when he was feeling less homicidal. “Haaaarleey,” he drawled, snarling in irritation.

“Hm?”

“Who was with me when the gassing happened?” he snapped.

She froze momentarily, then turned to him with a smile. “The Thompsons,” she informed him before turning back to her work.

“Who?” he snapped.

“Triplets. Skinny.”

Growling, Joker promised, “I’ll be right back,” before slamming the door behind him.

“TAKE YOUR TIME, PUDDIN’!” she called after him. She counted to five then got up and locked the door. She returned to the desk, removed the paper stack from the cube, and turned it on. A hologram of a fish-eyed woman with abundant golden brown curls and visible neck-gills displayed in front of her. “Yes, Visser One?” she asked politely.

“I feel the need to remind you that your report is still due,” the mermaid snarled.

“Yes, I’m still working on the fine details,” she reported, holding up a stack of notes as demonstration. “I can provide an oral summary now if you would like.”

“Do so,” said Visser One.

“The subject’s mind is highly resistant to Control though there are no physical barriers to infestation, and the assigned Yeerk completed fugue in the process. Subject has just enough difficulty recognizing reality to believe, when informed such, that the experiences of the past few days never happened. During that time, the Yeerk and the subject were in constant battle for Control, and we were forced to restrain the body. All are under the impression that he was poisoned. I do not recommend a repeat experiment. It is clear enough that the entity called ‘Joker’ is an unfit host, and further attempts may risk exposure. What I do recommend is--"

“Disposal,” Visser One interrupted, sounding bored. “Yes, I know. You _always_ recommend disposal.”

“He is not of use to us,” she pointed out desperately. “His life is not advantageous to our goals, and he is dangerously unpredictable.”

“Your host can predict him just fine. Use her,” Visser One snapped. “He distracts Batman. That _is_ advantageous.”

“And if he stops being able to distract Batman?” she suggested.

Visser One hummed to herself in thought. Finally, Edriss decided, “Contact me if that occurs.”

“You’re sure you don’t want a capture of the vigilante?” she asked.

“If Joker’s mind is too resistant for successful Control, I’d _loathe_ to see what results from Wayne,” Visser One snarled. “They’re both now barred from infestation. I still expect that report from you.” The hologram turned off.


	5. Jump City, California

“So…” Marco said, idly picking mushrooms off his veggie (“That’s healthy right?”) pizza. It wasn’t that he didn’t like mushrooms, but it gave him something to do when he didn’t particularly feel like eating at all. “I heard the Matcom building got… disintegrated.”

“Yeah.” Peter shook his head. “Sometimes I think we should move out of this city, but which city doesn’t have these problems?” He glanced across the table at his morose son. “Oh, don’t worry about it! A lot of the employees got S.T.A.R. Labs offers, including me, even though I hadn’t accepted Matcomb yet. It’s a real boon!”

Marco was skeptical. “What’s wrong with your current job?” he asked, mentally adding _Where no one’s infested you yet._

“Nothing!” Peter insisted. “I like Jerry, but this is a great offer. I can really turn things around with that kind of paycheck.”

_Could really turn **you** around, too,_ Marco thought, but he knew he didn’t have any legitimate argument without telling his dad what was going on.

Peter must have known that, too. “Is it something else that’s bothering you?” he asked in an oddly perceptive moment.

Marco sighed and leaned back in his chair. He supposed it had to come up sometime. “Dad, if I tell you something private, do you promise to not ever tell anyone ever no matter what you think that might accomplish. Never ever _ever_ without me?” he asked.

Peter raised an eyebrow. “Sure?” he agreed uncertainly.

Marco fidgeted. “You know how I’ve been talking to Abuelo Emilio?” he said.

Peter frowned. “Is he okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, yeah, he’s… well, he’s old, but you know.” Marco rubbed the back of his neck. “But I, uh, really needed to talk to him about stuff… stuff that’s come up, and uh, the phone isn’t working so well for that.”

Peter looked skeptical. “Uh, look, Marco, you don’t need to call your grandfather long distance just to talk about… boy stuff.”

“Dad!” Marco snapped, blushing profusely. “This is _not_ about puberty.”

“Then what?” Peter asked confused.

“I…” Marco sighed and sank down in his seat. He groaned and put his hands over his face. “I have gills sometimes.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Cute,” he groaned. “You know I was actually concerned for a second?”

Marco made a loud noise of frustration. “I’m serious!” he insisted. “You know Aquaman? Well, it turns out all those fishy powers didn’t come out of nowhere. He’s Atlantean. As in the mythical sunken continent. It’s a _huge_ secret. But it’s full of all sorts of water people, ranging from the basically human Aquaman to mermaids to straight-up fish-people.”

Peter was looking at him like he’d sprouted horns. “Marco…”

But Marco just kept going. “And I started having scales sometimes. Or webbing between my fingers. And I had no idea what was happening. Then one day, I’m at the beach with my friends, and I come out of the water, and I can’t _breathe_. Out of nowhere, I just can’t _breathe_ , and I think I’m going to die, and they find gills and put me back in the water, and Cassie’s like ‘gills don’t go there’ like that even matters when I’m suddenly turning into a fish for no reason. And eventually, I find out that’s an Atlantean thing, because, hey, it’s Jump City; Aqualad’s around sometimes I guess. For, you know, those dire water emergencies.”

Peter had dropped his pizza slice back onto his plate. “Marco,” he said, scowling.

“And it just _keeps_ happening. I can’t make it stop. It just _happens_ and eventually it goes away, but I can’t predict it, and I don’t know how much it’s going to get worse, and I think one day I’m gonna suffocate on dry land, and I’m _scared_.”

“Marco, that’s not funny!” Peter snapped.

Marco slammed his hands down on the table. “WELL, I DON’T THINK IT’S VERY FUNNY, EITHER!”

Peter stared in disbelief, his mouth hanging open just slightly. “Really?” he said at last.

“Yes,” Marco whispered.

“... _Really_ really?”

“YES.”

Peter stood up from the table but didn’t actually go anywhere. He seemed to be struggling to digest the onslaught of information. Finally, he returned his attention to Marco. “Why your abuelo?” he asked.

Marco shrugged. Of course, he couldn’t give the real reason, but he’d been doing pretty well so far. “Everyone I’ve met in the family is definitely _not_ Atlantean,” he reasoned. “Not any more than me, anyway. But Mom’s mother left _right_ after her birth. It’s the only clue I have. From our conversations, I think I might not be wrong.”

Peter squinted at him. “Your… mother’s mother?”

Oh crap. Oh crap oh crap oh crap oh crap….

But just as quickly as Peter had picked up the clue, he put it down again. “I’ve got to think about this, Marco,” he said, sounding somewhat distant as he passed by Marco’s chair on the way out of the dining room. “We’ll talk about it again tomorrow. _After_ I talk to Emilio.”

“Okay,” Marco mumbled. He watched his father leave the room. Then, with a sigh, he turned back to his cooling pizza. He hadn’t done anything wrong, right? It would have been wrong to wait until he was already half-fish to tell him. Right? He had no idea how fast this was going to happen or how far it might go. He _had_ to keep morphing. He--

He was pulled up suddenly from his chair as Peter tugged him into a tight, desperate hug. After the shock wore off, he hugged him back. They stayed like that for a long moment before Peter released him just enough to look him in the eye and tell him, “You’re _not_ going anywhere, Marco. I promise. No matter how bad this gets, I’m not letting you go.”

Marco definitely wasn’t crying.


	6. Metropolis, New York

“How long do you intend to lurk in the shadow?” Lex Luthor asked with a bored tone, refusing to look up from the papers on his desk. Luckily, this wasn’t the desk he did his more incriminating work at.

Batman stepped forward, shadows dropping away from him like a second cloak in an easy, fluid way that only came with years of practice. “I only just arrived,” he said.

“Mm-hm,” Luthor replied, not remotely fooled. “And you have arrived because…?”

“I was wondering if you’d noticed.”

Luthor paused. Batman hadn’t said _what_ he was wondering if Luthor had noticed, which meant that he expected Luthor to know, which meant that whatever it was probably wasn’t remotely subtle, and there was only one incredibly unsubtle thing that Luthor had been noticing lately. He finally turned his chair to address the Bat directly. “Superman?” he asked.

Batman nodded, once, firmly. Said nothing more. He seemed to be waiting for Luthor to elaborate.

So Luthor did. “Yes, I’ve noticed that he’s been… _strange_. At first, I thought one of a myriad of enemies had utilized kryptonite on him, but I have yet to find a ‘Stepford’ variety of kryptonite,” Luthor sneered. “I investigated all his connections and discovered that he wasn’t the only one behaving this way. So I decided to wait it out and definitely not take advantage of it at all.” He grinned broadly. “I’m sure whatever has affected your friends will soon--"

“Aliens,” said Batman.

Luthor blinked, surprised. “What?”

“It’s aliens,” Batman clarified. When Luthor continued staring at him, he went on, “There’s another hidden invasion. We know there’s a base in California, but Superman’s involvement gives me a reason to suspect more.”

“You want me to believe that big blue boyscout is _helping_ an alien invasion?” Luthor said. “Unless the aliens are Kryptonians, I don’t see wh--"

“Brain controllers,” said Batman.

Luthor glowered. “I really do wish you would stop interrupting,” he said. Then, he thought about what Batman had said. “Go on?”

“They’re called Yeerks. They’re at war with Andalites,” said Batman. “They are slug-like and live in pools. They take hosts by crawling in through the ear canal and wrapping around the brain. With this, they have full control for three days, until they’re forced to return to the pool or die. Their primary hosts are Hork-Bajir, Taxxons, and humans. Others include Andalites, Atlanteans, Kryptonian survivors, Leerans, Mak, Nahara, Ongarchic, Ssstram, and Tamaraneans. They may have others, however. Human-like species appear to be infinite, not to mention species with ears.”

Luthor was squinting at him. “The ear?” he repeated.

“The ear,” Batman confirmed.

“Assuming that Superman has an eardrum, an aspect that, until now, I had never thought to investigate, how would they get past it?” Luthor demanded. “The man is impenetrable at even the cellular level.”

“All minor barriers are numbed and penetrated,” Batman said brusquely. “Presumably, he was merely weakened with Kryptonite. Despite your attempts to corner the market, it remains available to the determined.”

Luthor grinned broadly at that. “Surely your Justice League could easily…” And that was it. That was the catch. It wasn’t enough to lose Superman. It was never enough to lose Superman. You had to take down everyone else, too.

And someone _had_.

Luthor scowled. “Why come to me?” he asked.

Batman dropped a thick manilla folder on Luthor’s desk. “These are plans for an entertainment satellite with the hidden ability to track kandrona radiation, revealing all Yeerk pool locations. You’ll launch it within the month. Only you and I will have full knowledge of its entire design.”

“How _retro_ ,” Luthor grunted as he flipped through the plans. “I was under the impression that you had your own resources.”

“None that the League won’t be tracking,” Batman admitted.

“So that’s my appeal,” said Luthor with a sneer. “The last man Batman would ever go to was the first man he went to.”

“You’re not the bottom of my list,” Batman grunted.

“I suppose not,” Luthor admitted. “Still, the point remains. This is why you need me. But tell me, Batman, why do I need you?”

“Because you want him back,” Batman said. “You’ll always want him back. Aside from your ego, impetuousness, and constant underestimation or overestimation of your opponents… Your greatest weakness is your fixation. You can’t stand winning any more than you can stand losing. It’s the battle you want, and he’s the only one you want to battle. They keep him… They get you… That all ends.”

Luthor turned back to his desk and looked through the file again. “Feel free to do that disappearing thing now,” he grunted.


	7. Star City, California

The last one. She was sure of it. This one was the last one. One more brain-controlling slug from god-even-knows-what-corner-of-hell and that was it. They’d all be gone. Retreated or… well, they’d be gone.

Black Canary had been fighting this fight for over a year. Ever since Lady Shiva got the best of her on a rooftop in The Glades. Of course, Dinah had revived earlier than Lady Shiva had expected. Less predictably, she found herself being transported into City Center. For what, there was only one way to learn.

Continuing to play weak and delirious, Black Canary allowed herself to be dragged in through the back door of a fast food restaurant. “Yeah, I’ve got your extra happy right here, grub,” Lady Shiva snarled. “Get that door open before she gets hold of herself.”

A uniformed worker ran to the back and opened what appeared to be a fridge door. A fridge door that hid a stairway. Having seen enough, Black Canary began to fight, shoving Lady Shiva away from her, but she had cut it too close. The gleeful employees quickly grabbed her and shoved her down the stairs.

She rolled to a stop and refused to take account of her injuries, opting instead to get her feet under her. But Lady Shiva was faster! The villainess pounced onto the stairs in front of her and kicked her in the face.

Again, she tumbled backward. The moment she was able to stop herself, Lady Shiva dropped in front of her again and kicked her in the ribs, sending her sprawling once more. Again and again, the moment Black Canary recovered, there was Lady Shiva. Finally, Black Canary caught a step with her hand, pulled up on her arms, and, just before Lady Shiva was able to kick her again, screamed up at her. It wasn’t a big one, but it would disorient her long enough to make a break for it.

Unfortunately, the stairway was too narrow to pass Lady Shiva and, even if she could, there were still the fast food workers to contend with. So, against her better judgement, Black Canary ran down. Perhaps down there would be a room she could corner Lady Shiva in, then making an escape. Maybe she’d even be lucky and find…

Another exit.

True to her hopes the massive complex certainly had plenty of exits. It also had a slew of monstrous creatures and caged, screaming humans. The sound, the smell, filled her head. She hesitated there, at the end of the hall, staring at the horror before her.

A mistake.

One firm kick in the back, and Lady Shiva had sent her flying off the staircase.

And Black Canary had screamed.

She’d screamed until the walls came down.

That was over a year ago. Since then, she’d been tracking every filthy slug in the city. Everyone reported missing or out of character or engaged in suspicious behavior. Everyone who kept regular appointments on three day intervals. Everyone connected to The Sharing.

And, at last, she was down to one.

Boucher. The daughter of a naval officer and the MPD’s police chief. Black Canary had precious little information on any of the three. Likely, Boucher had been an access point to infesting her parents. Since she’d been operating independently in Star City since before the pool collapse, it was evident that the infestation of her parents had been a failure.

Every source told her: This was the last Kandrona trader. This was the last lost child. This was the last person who spoke that alien tongue. The last.

All of Black Canary’s work had been for this.

She crept into the dark office building. There was almost no one there at that time of night. Almost. Black Canary kept creeping along until she reached the single lit office. She opened the door to find a little girl, maybe sixteen years old, sitting in a cheap chair at a cheap desk, hands folded in her lap, waiting patiently for Black Canary’s arrival.

“Hi,” said Boucher.

Black Canary refused to be alarmed by the host’s age or the slug's casual demeanor. “Alright slug,” she snarled. “You have two choi--"

“Choices,” said Boucher. “Climb out now and find your own way home or get starved out. Here’s the reasons why you should totally find me threatening. Blah blah blah.” She made flapping motions with her hands, one of which gleamed in the light. “Don’t you ever get tired of that speech?”

Black Canary shifted her weight. She still had the upperhand. She wouldn’t let a little girl’s attitude cause her to forget that! “How do you know my speech?” she asked. She needed to know if she’d missed something.

“Besides the fact that it’s _kind_ of obvious?” asked Boucher. “The thing is,” she said, standing.

“Stay seated!” Black Canary ordered.

With a small laugh and a smirk, Boucher put her hands up, smirked, and dropped back into her chair. “As I was saying?” she asked. “The thing is, when you don’t kill your enemies, they’re free to just… keep on being enemies. Take this from the species that has _mastered_ crappy plans: Yours is incredibly stupid.”

“You can come back, but you’ll keep getting your butt handed to you,” Black Canary snarled. “That’s why all the others have left.”

“Butt?” Boucher laughed. “That’s cute. And poor, poor me. Sub-visser Fifty-One. The very last Yeerk… in Star City.” Black Canary narrowed her eyes but said nothing. “You know _why_ I’m the last, Dinah Laurel Lance?” Boucher sneered. “Because we don’t _need_ to fool you anymore. Because Star City doesn’t matter anymore. We’ve got a new set up about two hours from here. More than that. And we’ve got your _friends_ , Dinah Laurel Lance.”

Boucher stood again and moved around the desk. “Make all the downtown cave-ins you want, sweetheart. We’ll just build more. You have _no idea_ what we can survive.” She stood directly in front of her, snarling up at her defiantly. “So Canary _Cry_ about it all you want, but the fact of the matter is that we _will_ have this planet. And if we can’t have you? _No one_ will.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” Black Canary snapped.

“I’ll enjoy teaching you how to be,” the girl sneered, before pushing her way out past Black Canary.

Black Canary grabbed her arm. “I’m here to free Taylor Boucher,” she snarled.

Taylor’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Please,” she said, “call us Master-at-Arms.”

Black Canary blinked at her. “That’s a military title,” she said. “Why on earth would I call you that?”

“Because it’s a pun, stupid!” And suddenly gas billowed up from the plastic arm, and Black Canary found herself releasing the girl and falling to the floor.


	8. Tritonis, Atlantis

“King Orin, how delightful to find you in Tritonis,” the woman purred.

“We’re looking for a woman called Capa Dorada,” Aquaman grunted.

“You dropped the ‘La’,” she said, smiling. “Also it’s ‘Carpa.’” She gestured to her long golden tail. “For obvious reasons.”

“Really?” snarled Aqualad. “Because I was thinking ‘cape’ for the unlicensed magical tattoos you’re covered in.”

“What these?” She gestured to the gold-glowing dots and swirls along her tail. “They’re life sustainers. Unlike many here, my Atlantean genetics remained recessed until an unfortunate drowning incident. Due to that, not everything works as it should. I’d be lost without the life-saving magics of Tritonis. I can show you my documentation if you like.”

Aquaman looked to Aqualad, frowning with disapproval. Aqualad bristled. That was unfair! He was right! He knew it! “What about the ones on your chest?” Aqualad demanded.

La Capa Dorada quirked an eyebrow. “Have you been looking at my chest?” she sneered.

Aqualad blushed furiously. “No, I… You have large tattoos on… just under your collarbone!” He gestured toward the area desperately.

She scratched absent-mindedly at the area. “Not capes,” she assured him. “Tattoos. Mundane tattoos from the human world, from my human days.”

“They’re _over_ your scales,” Aqualad snapped.

“Are they?” She shrugged. “Well, you’ve been paying more attention than me.”

“Ma’am, if those tattoos _ever_ light up, you know we’ll have to take you in,” said Aquaman.

“Take me in to where?” she asked. “You’re king of Poseidonis, are you not? This is Tritonis. I’m within _their_ jurisdiction.”

“I’m a hero of _all_ Atlantis,” Aquaman corrected.

“ _Really_?” she purred. “My mistake.” With a kick of her tail, she swam out of her alcove and into the broader area of the village hall. “Then again,” she said, circling Aquaman and Aqualad. “It’s not just my mistake is it?” She turned to the others gathered there and called out to them, “My friends, please tell me… _Who_ do Aquaman and Aqualad protect?”

“Poseidonis!” came the resounding supply.

She turned back to the heroes and shrugged, spreading her hands helplessly. “Oops?” she said.

“Your… _perception_ changes nothing if you’re operating illegally,” Aquaman calmly reminded her.

“Illegally?” La Capa Dorada kicked her tail again, floating backward from him as she spread her arms wide. “Sir, I am a community leader. I’m grateful for my place here, for the way _Tritonis_ has saved me and embraced me. I repay them with service, with a place of welcoming and love.”

Aqualad stepped forward to object, but Aquaman, grabbed his shoulder. “If what you say is true, La _Carpa_ Dorada, then we have no quarrel with you,” he promised. “But we will be watching.”

“What?!” Aqualad demanded. “But Aquaman--!”

“That’s enough,” Aquaman warned. “We have no evidence. It’s time to return home.”

With an angry cry of frustration, Aqualad swam back out of the village hall as quickly as possible. But La Capa Dorada put her hand on Aquaman’s shoulder to keep him from moving away too quickly. “There are easier ways to handle this matter,” she whispered.

But Aquaman shook his head. “If we harm _any_ child, much less Garth, Kaldur’ahm, or Tula, Orin will be in a _constant_ state of rebellion,” he explained. “At this time, it’s not worth the price.”

“I trust your assessment,” she said. “Any word on the Bandits or Heroes?”

Aquaman shook his head, saying, “He refuses to talk about _who_ he met, simply because he promised not to. He’s quite loyal. But he trusts Orin completely. I am certain that he can be convinced, with time.”


	9. The Future

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we start adding surnames in. My group has a set we work with when we need an Animorph surname. Cassandra Sosanya is Cassie, Marco Guerra is Marco, and Eva Laínez is Eva.

“The Prince has reported in,” Eva Laínez informed them over the ear communicators as Beast Boy blinked into being in front of Marco Guerra and Kaldur’ahm, standing on the computer platform. “Red Hood has the drive that Jake knocked off Warp’s breastplate. That ought to give us some time before the Reach can reverse engineer the technology.”

“Ma, you realize that _when_ the Reach develop time tech is kind of irrelevant, right?” Marco said as he double-checked the responses and reactions of the hologram.

“Which gives us more time to steal it from them,” she finished.

“There you go,” Marco said with a small laugh. He turned to Kaldur. “Beast Boy is operational. Is that the last one?”

Kaldur stepped back from a holographic Adam Strange. “Yes,” he said. He turned to one of the computers and typed in a code. “Chee force generators activating now,” he said. “They’ll have weight and substance in about two minutes.”

“Prepare for three incoming swimmers,” the computer announced.

Marco grabbed Kaldur’s arm, and raced down the platforms. “We’ll have to hope Starfire doesn’t hug _too_ quickly,” he said before jumping into the water. His pants and boots disappeared as his legs melted into a bronze tail. Gills opened up on his sides and neck.

Kaldur quickly caught up with him. He didn’t have the advantage of Marco’s tail, but he had _years_ more swimming experience over him and had no buried fears of drowning. “You realize we left La Dama sleeping up there?” he asked.

“Awe, that’s cute,” Marco said, reaching out and shoving him. “You think La Dama actually sleeps.”

“Boys,” Eva chastised sharply from an alcove in the far back of the abandoned warehouse. She was fiddling with a waterproof tablet computer of alien design. “This is a serious matter.”

Marco did that lip-curling, scrunched-nose thing. “I know that,” he said. “You think I don’t know that?”

“Don’t make ugly faces, dear.”

“‘Work with your mom!’ they said,” he complained. “‘It will be fun!’ they said.”

“No one said that,” said Kaldur.

“Are La Dama and Ravager in position?” Eva asked. “Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter now," she said, looking at her device again. "Starfire and Jake have entered with Major Ursa.”

“Which means that the Reach Infiltrator is right on their heels,” Kaldur said. He frowned again and turned to the two mermaids. “I still do not understand what we’re meant to be changing. So far we have done everything possible to make sure that every detail of Kori’zzon and Killer's reports are followed to the letter.”

“Followed to the letter in a way that fits us,” Eva corrected. “They believed that they actually interacted with Kori’zzon, Raven, Adam Strange, Major Ursa, Nightwing, Cyborg, Beast Boy, La Dama, Toby Hamee, Ravager, and several Chee. As well as you and Marco.” She reached behind her to pull Marco’s vest and waterbearers off a shelf for him.

Kaldur, being Kaldur, always had his equipment on him, and he rolled his eyes as Marco pulled the vest on. “Except Grayson isn’t Nightwing. The future changed,” he insisted. “Not to mention that the Chee would _never_ work in the same room as Kori’zzon or Ravager. The impossible details is what motivated them to tell us, to see what we _could_ work with now that there was no possibility of damage.”

“But now it _hasn’t_ changed,” said Eva. “They’ll interact with the exact people they described in the exact same way. _If_ someone was actively reversing the past, we’ve set it back on course, but in a direction that benefits us. If all goes right, we’ll get a unique opportunity we wouldn't have had otherwise.”

“Of course, that’s presuming that the Infiltrator is operating based on the version of the story Jaime heard way back when,” Marco groused, eyes on the small movements of light on the water’s surface far above. “That the bug really was faking it when it didn’t recognize the age differences, letting Jake and Star go only so Milagro could direct them to Justice and it could tail them.”

“We’re setting history back in stone,” Eva said. “But what isn’t set in stone? The parts that no one knows. That no one _can_ know. Those are the details we can safely manipulate.”

“You do realize that it is entirely possible that this _is_ what happened?” said Kaldur. “That they did interact with holograms, which is why details were wrong. That they didn’t hang around long enough to see what really happened, which is why no one knows our plan.”

Marco just shrugged. “Then we’re not hurting anything,” he said.

Kaldur shook his head in disbelief. “As long as you are not getting your hopes up…”

“Me? Hopeful?” Marco repeated with a laugh.

“Did you only meet an hour ago?” Eva asked.

“You would think so,” Marco teased, shoving Kaldur again.

"Prepare for incoming swimmer," the underwater speakers announced.

Eva winked cleverly and asked sweetly, “Remember when you tried to kill me?”

“Which time?” Marco replied.

Eva gestured to her son in demonstration, and Kaldur rolled his eyes again. “Forget it,” he said.

Above them, there was a splash into the water as Major Ursa and Grayson-as-Nightwing dove into the water. The brief flicker in Nightwing as the hologram generators switched from the upper level to the lower level seemed to go unnoticed in the moment of panic. Marco’s eyes widened. He turned to the others. “Did anyone tell Rachel the plan?”

“That is why she’s here,” Kaldur said, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, but I mean the _whole_ plan,” said Marco. “Did anyone tell her this is fake?”

“Swim fast,” Eva said, batting his tail with hers.

Swearing under his breath, Marco followed Kaldur to the surface. Above them, the surface exploded with blue-light white -- a radiation cannon that the scarab would believe took out Kori’zzon and Raven. That was their cue.

Marco kicked hard in the last few yards and jetting out of the water, past the huddled Major Ursa, Starfire, and Jake. He morphed in the air, rolled onto the wooden boards, and took off running on two legs.

There it was.

Jaime Reyes.

Dead or alive?

Gone or lost?

Brenda del Vecchio fired off shot after shot as the Reach Infiltrator picked off Toby, Beast Boy, and Cyborg, just as their holgrams had been designed to let it. They’d been prepared to fake Brenda, too, but she'd shown up anyway. To their knowledge, no one had even told her about the plan or the future that had been seen, but wherever the Infiltrator went, she and Paco Testas were never far behind.

Bullets weren’t enough to stop the Infiltrator, but it didn’t particularly like them. They distracted it enough to keep it from killing Marco, Kaldur, or Rose Wilson. Realizing this problem, it aimed another cannon blast at Brenda, so Rose shoved a sword up the cannon.

Don’t think about it. Jaime’s not there. He can’t feel it. He can’t get hurt because that’s not him.

“Booster Gold has taken the children, poor fool,” Eva reported. “Ursa’s on her way. And Acuario?”

“Kinda distracted, _Mother_ ,” Marco grunted, barely avoiding a swipe of the Infiltrator’s blade arm. The massive water-flail he’d been wielding together with Kaldur dropped and crashed back into the water beneath them. Meanwhile, the Infiltrator began reconfiguring the cannon on its left arm, slowly crushing Rose’s sword and sending broken shards of metal falling to the floor and into the water.

“Don’t hesitate, Marco,” Eva's voice hissed in his ear. “Whatever happens. Whatever he does. Do. Not. Hesitate.”

Marco made a growling noise and used his waterbearers to pick up the water from beneath the Infiltrator, metal shards and all, and throw it back at it. Metal on metal was not a pretty sound. It spun toward him, but whatever it was going to do was cut off by a grizzly bear jumping onto its back. Brenda took Rachel’s distraction as an opportunity to “miss” and fire a shot that knocked the hologram of Grayson-as-Nightwing into the water.

The Infiltrator spun, dropping the grizzly into the water. It grabbed her head and held her under. It turned to the two Atlanteans as, in the distance behind them, Rose grabbed Brenda and pulled her into the water. “Reveal location of Cassandra Sosanya, and I will show mercy,” it said with a sweet tone that didn’t really match the situation.

“Define ‘mercy,’” Marco quipped without really thinking.

But the Infiltrator looked at him. The Infiltrator looked at him… and its grip slipped.

What.

Killing machines don’t just _slip_.

“Prepare for incoming swimmer.”

Rachel rose from the water with an angry roar and swiped the Infiltrator across the face. It would have blasted her head off if Milagro hadn't burst through just then and pulled it up into the air. It struggled in the grip of Milagro’s willful energy, but it would likely free itself from the construct in moments. There was an opening. Get water into the crevices of the suit. Aqualad was down. It was up to Marco.

He feet smacked against the wooden board, closing distance.

Rip it apart.

Just like they’d practiced.

Don’t worry about Jaime.

Jaime can’t feel it.

Jaime isn’t there. Not really.

Marco closed the distance, grabbed up the water he needed, prepared to attack, and then, staring the Infiltrator down eye-to-eye, did something he’d never done before.

Marco hesitated.

~~`Temporal dissolution in 10... 9... 8...` ~~

~~`Cassandra Sosanya to Reach Ambassador: Your false histories will be removed. There is only one way this ends.` ~~

~~`7... 6... 5...` ~~

~~`Reach Ambassador to Cassandra Sosanya: You will be removed. This ends with the Reach.` ~~

~~`4... 3... 2...` ~~


End file.
